THE LAST OF THE FLOCK
By William Wordsworth
The poem is constructed to begin and end at relatively the same point, thus meaning that it is a cyclic poem.
This, in itself, have a variety of different meanings. Firstly it could be attributed to the Fatalistic view that fate
is inevitable and cannot be escaped. Secondly, and more plausibly, is that it represents the difficulty of
breaking away from traditional human attributes, which is a key point in values and attitudes of the Romantic
Era, of which Wordsworth was a part of. The poem is constructed so that stanzas 1-5 show the farmer gaining
his flock of sheep and stanzas 6-10 show the farmer losing the afore mentioned sheep, thus creating a sense
of balance within the poem which is symbolized perfectly by the ancient Taoist symbol of the the Ying Yang,
created by Laozi. Although this symbol was created in Ancient China, it shows that the Romantic period was
not the first to create such ideas of balance and that parts of it\'s key values were already established in prior
thinkings and cultures. But I digress.
The sheep in the poem represent both nature and innocence, ideas that humans associate with the
word \'pure\'. In the Romantic Era, God and Nature were the two key ideas that thinking revolved around.
According to the Christian faith, God created the world, and by extension, nature, all of which are said to be
pure. Although God also created the first human, it was thought, during this period, that humans and
everything touched or created by humanity was tainted and impure. Thus, the sheep represent purity at its
most potent. The gaining of sheep represents the farmer gaining purity and it is shown in the poem that it
results in lighter, more care-free feelings, \"And now I care not if we die, And perish all of poverty.\"
The loss of sheep has the exact reverse effect. Far from being care-free, the loss of nature and purity drives
the farmer to a state of near madness, \"To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies crossed my mind;
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me:\"
Even though, ostensibly, the poem describes a farmer gaining then losing his sheep, below the surface, the
message is much clearer. Life without nature and purity can be both more difficult and more serious,
traditional Romantic ideas written in a poem by a traditional Romantic poet.
In distant countries I have been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man full grown
Weep in the public roads alone.
But such a one, on English ground,
And in the broad high-way, I met;
Along the broad high-way he came,
His cheeks with tears were wet.
Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;
And in his arms a lamb he had.
He saw me, and he turned aside,
As if he wished himself to hide:
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I follow'd him, and said, "My friend
"What ails you? wherefore weep you so?"
--"Shame on me, Sir! this lusty lamb,
He makes my tears to flow.
To-day I fetched him from the rock;
He is the last of all my flock.
When I was young, a single man.
And after youthful follies ran,
Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see,
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;
Of sheep I number'd a full score,
And every year encreas'd my store.
Year after year my stock it grew,
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed;
They throve, and we at home did thrive.
--This lusty lamb of all my store
Is all that is alive:
And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.
Ten children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labour in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
I of the parish ask'd relief.
They said I was a wealthy man;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was fit that thence I took
Whereof to buy us bread:"
"Do this; how can we give to you,"
They cried, "what to the poor is due?"
I sold a sheep as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;
For me it never did me good.
A woeful time it was for me,
To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty flock which I had reared
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.
Another still! and still another!
A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopp'd,
Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.
Till thirty were not left alive
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
And I may say that many a time
I wished they all were gone:
They dwindled one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.
To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies cross'd my mind,
And every man I chanc'd to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without,
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.
Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;
God cursed me in my sore distress,
I prayed, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;
And every week, and every day,
My flock, it seemed to melt away.
They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to five, from five to three,
A lamb, a weather, and a ewe;
And then at last, from three to two;
And of my fifty, yesterday
I had but only one,
And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;
To-day I fetched it from the rock;
It is the last of all my flock."
